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I have a
little cockatiel
He is a
lovely bird
But he must
be the nosiest
That I have
ever heard
Each
morning bright and early
When the
sun begins to rise
He starts
to squawk and chitter
A noise
which I despise
When I
can’t stick it anymore
I rise out
of my bed
Remove the
cover from his cage
And scratch
his tiny head
Once he’s
settled down a bit
I try to
get some rest
But Busby
starts his noise again
Often
getting up is best
Once I’m up
it doesn’t stop
He starts
to flap his wings
He dives
from perch to perch
Attacks his
bell so that it rings
Knowing I’m
now wide awake
And will
try to sleep no more
He clambers
down his cage
And sits
rights beside the door
He’s not
daft and know quite well
That when
I’m up and dressed
I will open
up his cage
And let him
do what he does best
Busby flies
around my room
And plays
on all his toys
Once he’s
outside of his cage
He never
makes a noise |
